Ben & Shae Cecka's family in Gilbert, AZ

A draft of another essay for English. The object here was to establish a time in our lives where we became indebted to someone or something, and how we intend to repay that debt.

I once heard a respectable friend of mine say that changing another man’s values is the most difficult thing to do. In fact, it would be easier to realign someone’s entire belief system, than to make an impression on their moral fabric. However much sense this made to me at the time, I later found its weak point. Fourteen months ago, as I sat at my desk, working as usual, my wife of just over one month approached me with a pregnancy test. We counted two pink lines: not one. It was this creation of life, and the sequence thereafter, that decided my new fate.
My interests shifted, as with many other young Americans, with the destructive events on September 11, 2001. As an old high-school history teacher put it, I was “bitten with the political bug.” In retrospect, I can see that the bite was not yet too deep. My generation has only heard about the wars of the world. We’ve seen the images of cities turned into rubble in our textbooks, read the articles compiled for public schools, and watched black and white documentaries showing footage of proud men making consequential decisions. Never before was the bloodshed of American civilians manifested in such a profound, unforgiving way. Nevertheless, the events on September 11, 2001 only partially grabbed my attention. The effects of this proverbial bug hadn’t been completely realized, for it was not the clutch of death, but the creation of life that grabbed my attention to the amazing politics of our country and abroad.
As a young family with no means of medical insurance to speak of, our greatest fears lay with question, “How can we ever hope to finance this?” We researched by phone book, Internet, and word of mouth, looking for the answer to our budget crisis. Our first big break turned out to be a company that was fraudulently providing medical coverage in the state of Washington; we later assisted the Attorney General’s office of Texas in an investigation of their practices. Desperate to get my wife in for a checkup and a real pregnancy test, I took some advice given to me by a neighbor and visited CHAS (Community Health Association of Spokane), whom offered an income-based payment plan. We called the clinic and they scheduled an appointment for us for the following week. I can still recall my elation when the receptionist, her warm and welcoming voice, quelled my many concerns about the procedure; a strong contrast from the salesmen-like attitudes received from other agencies (namely the aforementioned).
Our very first visit to CHAS was one filled with tension, apprehension, curiosity, and excitement, bundled up into what looked like a package wrapped in a few seconds with the Sunday’s funny paper. At the front window we had to register and fill out some basic forms. The clerk told us we would pay a sliding-scale fee (based on income) until they found an insurance provider that we could afford. If no insurance provider was able to fit us, we would be automatically enrolled with DSHS (Department of Social and Health Services). After a short wait, we were taken by a nurse into one of the small examination rooms. She was thorough and kind in her questioning, recording everything on an electronic hand-held device. When the she had finished and left us, the Certified Nurse Midwife on duty, Joseph Shaeffer, walked in and sat down. We exchanged casual introductions with each other, followed by several more questions regarding our situation.
“So, was this a planned or an ‘oops’ pregnancy?” he asked with a twinkle.
We looked at each other for a few seconds, as if we needed to get our stories straight for the interrogation at-hand (it was nothing of the sort).
“A little bit of both I guess,” I said sheepishly. The room resounded with a light chuckle. At least we all knew where we were coming from; except that Joseph Shaeffer never had to ask. CHAS never asked us again for financial information. The only questions they ever asked were directed at the well-being of my wife, and the only bill we ever received was for that first visit. Every checkup and prescription from that point on was covered by the state funded DSHS program.
By the end of the process I only can only imagine what the cost would have been to us. It would have most assuredly run us into the ground with debt. For as long as I live, I will forever remember the generosity of the state of Washington and its’ taxpayers. They gave us the boost, the support, and the tools to give our son a safe and healthy environment. Now it is up to us to take the next step, and all forthcoming, to lead our new family in the right direction. In a time where it can be so difficult to find hope in the world around us, Washington has given me something to believe in.
I have grown up in the middle of a technological revolution. The focus of my schooling, hobbies, and even associates have been commonly centered around this fact. It has been a goal of mine since elementary school to pursue a career related to technology. Last year, I even opened up my own business to start repairing PC’s, setup networks, and design websites for businesses. After this experience with my wife and newborn son, I slowly realized that it wouldn’t be possible to carry on as planned. I feel that is now my duty to have a greater understanding of a government that provides the way that we were provided for. I feel that is my stronger duty to do all that I can as a citizen to ensure that these programs exist for future families in situations like ours. With the infant cries of my son Johnathan, a new pathway of existence has been shown to me. “Your word is a lamp to my feet And a light to my path” (Psalms 119:105).